One Missed Beat
by mollycullen
Summary: The clock ticked on, a black blob in my vision but it never missed a beat. An unchangeable object, one that would always be there. It would tick on long after I did'. Oneshot. Tell me who you think of when you read it.
1. Chapter 1

_**A Steady Beat**_

**_(oneshot)_**

* * *

The clock ticks slowly, its soft ticking interrupting my thoughts and I find myself turning my head to glare at it in annoyance from where it sits on my night stand, just out of reach. I resist the urge to knock it on the ground, a thought partly discouraged because I don't want to get out of bed. Still, the clock survives.

Its ticking, a steady beat I find myself growing used to in the silence. It is the only consistent thing I have going in my life. I turn to look at it again, removing my eyes from the ceiling. Black and white. There was no grey on the clock, just like I had found there was none in the world. Cold, hard fact – nothing more.

Around me everything is the same. There are no changes in here, nothing is different. Except me. I find myself thinking it, a random thought entering my mind which changes my perspective. Still not a thing has changed.

I scratch my arm. As I did it, my eyes trail down the red scarring marking my skin. I raised a finger, tracing it, enjoying the wince of pain it caused. A tear fell down my cheek. I wiped it away angrily – constant vigilance.

The clock ticked on, a black blob in my vision but it never missed a beat. An unchangeable object, one that would always be there. It would tick on long after I did.

I make myself focus. I blink, attempting to rid myself of the ridiculous emotions interrupting my thoughts. My vision clears and I look around. Its there, sitting on the night stand next to the clock. It catches the light, the silver gleaming. This I have to do.

I lift my leg out of the bed I hadn't left in six days. I feel dizzy, the blood rushes to my head and I sway slightly. Ignoring the black blur falling across my eyes I turn to close the door before advancing towards my night stand.

Its sitting there. Its teasing me. A test of strength. A test of character. Slowly I extend my hand, my chipped nail-varnish glimmers faintly in the sunlight. I bite my nail. The clock ticks on. My hand hovers several inches from where it sits.

I pick it up. It isn't a graceful movement. The plastic is hard beneath my scarred skin. I run my finger along the cool surface. I feel the point with my finger. It wasn't blunt – a drop of ruby blood falls from my finger.

I trace my neck. It will only take a few seconds.

No one will hear me scream.

The clock ticks slowly, its soft ticking interrupting my thoughts and I find myself turning my head to glare at it in annoyance from where it sits on my night stand, just out of reach. I resist the urge to knock it on the ground, a thought partly discouraged because I don't want to get out of bed. Still, the clock survives.

Its ticking, a steady beat I find myself growing used to in the silence. It is the only consistent thing I have going in my life. I turn to look at it again, removing my eyes from the ceiling. Black and white. There was no grey on the clock, just like I had found there was none in the world. Cold, hard fact – nothing more.

Around me everything is the same. There are no changes in here, nothing is different. Except me. I find myself thinking it, a random thought entering my mind which changes my perspective. Still not a thing has changed.

I scratch my arm. As I did it, my eyes trail down the red scarring marking my skin. I raised a finger, tracing it, enjoying the wince of pain it caused. A tear fell down my cheek. I wiped it away angrily – constant vigilance.

The clock ticked on, a black blob in my vision but it never missed a beat. An unchangeable object, one that would always be there. It would tick on long after I did.

I make myself focus. I blink, attempting to rid myself of the ridiculous emotions interrupting my thoughts. My vision clears and I look around. Its there, sitting on the night stand next to the clock. It catches the light, the silver gleaming. This I have to do.

I lift my leg out of the bed I hadn't left in six days. I feel dizzy, the blood rushes to my head and I sway slightly. Ignoring the black blur falling across my eyes I turn to close the door before advancing towards my night stand.

Its sitting there. Its teasing me. A test of strength. A test of character. Slowly I extend my hand, my chipped nail-varnish glimmers faintly in the sunlight. I bite my nail. The clock ticks on. My hand hovers several inches from where it sits.

I pick it up. It isn't a graceful movement. The plastic is hard beneath my scarred skin. I run my finger along the cool surface. I feel the point with my finger. It wasn't blunt – a drop of ruby blood falls from my finger.

I trace my neck. It will only take a few seconds.

No one will hear me scream.

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**_AN: A review would be handy._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, I'm sorry if I disappointed you by thinking this is another update, but I do have good news!**

I'M BACK!!

**I'm know I've been away for like a year, but I'm back and I want to start writing this again. I've been going through some personal problems, but I think they are mostly gone now and I'll be able to write again. I don't think I can just pick up where I left off, so I have decided I am going to rewrite this story, in a better way with LONGER chapters. **

**I really hope you'll read this new take on Evergreen, I think its better than I've ever written, and I'd appreciate your reviews and takes on what you think of it. It has been hard, but I'd like to thank the people who went out of their way to PM me and ask whether I was alright - not dead yet! Cros fingers, and hope I didn't just jinx myself.**

So please,

**click on this link and read my new take on Evergreen, :**

.net/s/5528091/1/


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